


The Boss

by InkTail



Series: Prompts and Short Fic [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:08:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22780759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkTail/pseuds/InkTail
Summary: Prompt; If I'm not the boss of you, who is?
Relationships: Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum
Series: Prompts and Short Fic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637755
Kudos: 8





	The Boss

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of a prompt night on tumbles for my buddy [buffpidgey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuffPidgey) back in January 2018

“Prompto, put that down.” Exasperated, and only a little panicked, the prince turns to his friend, ready to knock the severed MT arm from his hands lest he set it off on accident.

Prompto, who's squatting on the ground next to a “dead” MT, holds the arm away from Noct's reaching hands. He sticks out his tongue. “Mneh. You're not the boss of me,” he says before his shit-eating grin cracks his face in two. He turns back to fiddling with the mechanisms in the things wrist while Noctis watches with abject horror. 

He's been on the receiving end of that thing too many times to be comfortable right now. After just a moment too long of awkward pregnant pause, he scoffs, failing at nonchalance. “Pfft, well, if I'm not your boss, then who is?”

Prompto pauses his studying again, cocking his head to the side. “I mean, Ignis does all the money stuff, so technically he pays me,” he gestures out with the disembodied arm, towards where Ignis and Gladio are huddled together on the other side of the road. “But The Big Guy makes most of the real decisions. So, you know.” He shrugs. “Not you.” 

Prompto turns to give the other boy a good natured nudge. They're both know he's only teasing. But the look on Noct's face is so offended, so betrayed! Prompto can't help his ugly laughter, or the way he naturally curls in on his stomach.

Laughter cuts off with a squawk as Prompto is thrown off balance by the force of the arm-lance activating in his hands. The magic-sucking blades flop out onto the hot pavement several paces away, with all the climax of a surprise confetti popper.

This time he does set it down, when Noctis tells him to drop it.


End file.
